This report is written by a participant of for Cities Week 2025 in Chiang Mai
In cities like Tokyo, daily life rarely responds to the changing weather or shifting seasons. People walk on meticulously organized paths, always on time, efficiently, and without hesitation. Whether the wind blows or the rain falls, life continues as though ignoring the natural elements entirely. Urban structures, infrastructure, and daily rhythms are designed to avoid the unpredictable, treating nature as something to be controlled.
But in Chiang Mai, I encountered a different sensibility through its local practitioners. The word "tropical" didn’t just evoke climate or tourist images—it felt more like an attitude or orientation that moves with the natural flow of things. Moments like stepping into a tree’s shade or adjusting to the rain like a live session revealed a posture that nurtures adaptability in facing what cannot be controlled.
What I observed in Chiang Mai wasn’t planned orderliness, but rather a “behavior of coexistence” emerging between people and nature. Tropical Urbanism(s), to me, is a philosophy of living with the unpredictable—not fighting against nature, but coexisting with it. This is not merely an architectural approach, but also an emotional and cultural one. In Thai culture, it’s sometimes described as SABAI SABAI—a mindset where harmony and natural rhythm are valued more than efficiency. This philosophy prompts us to reflect on our values and reimagine the foundations of city life.
Growing up in Tokyo, this way of thinking is easy to forget in everyday life. It reminded me how difficult it is to embed these values into urban design and culture. Still, during the wrap-up session for Cities Week 2025, I had the chance to hear from Pika of North Forest Studio and Wtanya of Bangkok Tokyo Architecture—both architects whose work stretches beyond professional frameworks into deeply human engagements with nature.
At JaiBaan Studio — a beautiful space rooted in coexistence with nature. Photo by author
Listening to the Land and Materials
Pika from North Forest Studio describes their guiding vision as “go to native.” Rather than starting with buildings, their work begins with walking—researching landscapes and villages across Thailand and beyond to understand local living practices and material use.
The studio designs ecological systems such as national parks, nature trails, and conservation projects. Each project starts with studying native trees and ecosystems, imagining how forests, wildlife, and biodiversity will evolve over time.
Their approach goes beyond architecture, focusing on reading the land and designing with traditional knowledge. By understanding natural systems and local wisdom, they create spaces that reconnect people with their environment.
Projects range from bamboo bridges informed by local techniques to village planning that prioritizes drainage and natural ventilation. Their work challenges us to reconsider designing from fixed images, and instead begin by listening to what the land itself reveals.
Letting Context Lead the Design
Wtanya Chanvitan, co-founder of Bangkok Tokyo Architecture, shared an approach shaped by the realities of Bangkok and Tokyo. Their work prioritizes interaction over control, and lived context over formal expression. For them, context is not just material or form, but everyday urban life—how people access spaces and how industrial methods shape cities across Asia. This focus on reality grounds their practice.
They reflected on a hiking trip to Nepal, where a villager-built teahouse leaned against a massive rock for protection from landslides. The rock itself became a social space, prompting the question: where does architecture begin and end?
Seeking a balance between low-tech accessibility and professional rigor, the studio works with familiar, repairable materials and open construction methods. Their architecture resists spectacle, acting instead as a flexible stage for daily life—quiet spaces that coexist with local flows.
The Beauty of the Imperfect
A group discussion with Pika (North Forest Studio), Wtanya (Bangkok Tokyo Architecture), Tai (JaiBaan Studio), the for Cities team, and participants revealed shared values beneath their diverse practices.
Tai reflected on his teacher’s advice to look inward rather than upward—to find wisdom in local culture, nature, and what already exists. This approach isn’t about romanticizing tradition, but allowing architecture to grow from rooted perspectives.
Despite their global experiences, each studio balances local craft with openness to multiple values. Tai noted that humans often try to control nature out of fear, but by rebuilding relationships with it, we can create spaces that embrace ambiguity.
Maintenance emerged as a key theme. Wtanya emphasized that using replaceable materials accepts impermanence—buildings are meant to age, break, and be repaired. Architecture is not an eternal monument, but part of a living cycle.
Mariko Sugita of for Cities added that maintenance extends beyond professionals to residents, bacteria, and microorganisms. Life itself shapes architecture over time. Pika connected this thinking to wabi-sabi—the beauty found in imperfection, cracks, and the layered passage of time.
A hike that evoked a deep sense of connection to nature and others. photo by Moth Akkarakamon
It’s hard to translate. Literally it means "comfortable" or "pleasant," but it conveys something deeper—an attitude of enjoying the process with ease and openness, like a plant’s branch stretching unpredictably. "SABAI" is not about luxury or curated comfort. It’s not about speed or efficiency either. It’s a sense that “you are okay just as you are.” To be in connection with nature and people, simply present in the moment.
Cities that nurture “SABAI” are perhaps the kind shaped by the design philosophies I encountered during for Cities Week2025. In cities like Tokyo that prioritize speed, order, and goals, this value is often lost.
Tropical Urbanism(s) invites us to shift from "control" to "maintenance," from "planning" to "the present moment." It doesn’t just ask what to build—but how to live. This is not only about architecture or space-making, but also about adaptability, care, and a willingness to let go—emotional and cultural values embedded in our posture as human beings.
An exhibition themed around SABAI, enriched with participants’ own “SABAI moments” Photo by Moth Akkarakamon